China Syndrome
by walked-into-the-sky
Summary: She was always a coward when it came to him. Dasey. One Shot.


China Syndrome

Author: The Unconventional Lady

Disclaimer: I don't own Life with Derek or Dr. Mary Malone.

Summary: She was a coward when it came to him. Dasey.

Author's Note: I know, I know. It has been a long time since I've updated any of my stories. Two words: writer's block. EPIC writer's block. And there's this little pet novel that I'm fixated on right now. So be prepared for a series of random one shots because they don't require commitment and are therefore awesome.

Thank you.

An attempt at second person…I think that's what it's called. Whatever…let me know what you think, but please be gentle; I'm a second person virgin.

"Being in love was like being in China." –Dr. Mary Malone (one of Phillip Pullman's genius creations).

Begin—

_**Sixteen**_

You didn't really mean for it to happen.

Really, it's not like you intentionally drove out on some random Canadian highway in the middle of nowhere with a _gigantic_ rusty nail and dropped it just so, making sure it would miss every single car except for the Prince. And how could you even know that this distant great-great aunt that just died was going to kick it _today_, of all days, and that Mom, George, Lizzie, Edwin, and Marti were _all_ going to be in Toronto, where the funeral just happened to be taking place in two days, so you and Derek would have to drive out there all by yourselves?

You couldn't.

So it's not your fault.

And when the tire on the front passenger's side exploded, you threw yourself at him out of instinct. The car was spinning out of control. You needed something sturdy to hold onto and of course your first thought was DEREK!

That's normal.

And when the tow truck took literally _two million years_ to come help Derek fix the car because there was no jack in the trunk, you weren't secretly glad. You hated spending time with him. He was an idiot, impossible to talk to, and too self absorbed to even hear you over his thoughts of how awesome he was. You didn't think he was awesome.

Not.

One.

Bit.

The tow truck did come and you weren't furious because that would imply that you actually _did_ want to be alone with Derek and that was ludicrous. The tire was fixed, you were on your way, and never once did it cross your mind that you should have taken advantage of the situation. That was the way Derek looked at things. It was a Derek thought. And that was stupid.

The traffic got bad fast. If you hadn't been delayed by the nail, you would have missed it. A consolation prize for your missed opportunity. No, that's not right. You hated traffic, didn't you and when you cursed under your breath about it you definitely meant it. And you were livid that you were stuck in that car with him for ages because of it.

No silent celebrations for you. It was sheer agony.

You got annoyed when Derek blasted some of his "screamer" music later. You yelled at him and he turned it up, smirking in that cute way of his.

Strike that. You didn't think that. Because that would mean you thought he wasn't ugly and that wasn't acceptable. Derek was forbidden and therefore he was ugly. That was easier.

Right?

Later still, Derek found yet another way to annoy you. He sang along with the screamer. _Sang along with it._ It was bad enough when it was just one idiot pretending to be a banshee, but two could lead to heads literally exploding. You yelled at him again, louder than before, putting your mouth too close to his ear.

You probably should have seen it coming. It was one of those freaky, movie-like moments. It was inevitable.

But when he turned to yell back and your mouth got in the way of his words, you didn't even try to move.

Some first kiss.

And you liked it.

Hypocrite.

_**Twenty**_

You went to college in America because you "needed a change of scenery".

Good joke.

Nothing ever came of the traffic kiss and you cried over it at least a half a dozen times. Poor baby. Take some initiative. Make it happen.

No wait, you're in Chicago studying literature. He's in Montreal; he's a hockey star and, guess what? He's over you because you sat back and let him get away.

Mom still hasn't forgiven you for going so far away but you're so miserable you don't really care. Way to fixate. Maybe you should suck it up and admit it. It's easy, just three little words. But you look at yourself in the mirror and you gag on them. One kiss doesn't create stuff like this. This is just some sort of warped homesickness that just happens to materialize in the form of longing for Derek.

You obsessed over the winter holidays. You were so excited your roommate told all her friends you had finally lost it. Maybe you had. He's your step brother after all. Forbidden. A blank spot on the map. The ultimate uncharted territory.

People will think you're a freak for daring to travel there. Does that bother you?

You look at yourself in the mirror and don't have an answer.

Big surprise.

When you got to the house, he had a woman with him. You wanted to gouge her eyes out, but you didn't because he seemed to like her and causing permanent damage to her overly made up face probably wouldn't score you any points.

She was staying with you, though, and you were pissed. She was an outsider; she didn't belong in _your _house!

Or did you mean she didn't belong with _your_ Derek?

You didn't even really see what she looked like. She was just a faceless obstacle and you were ready to give up because you're a coward at heart.

You got drunk on Christmas Eve and you don't remember much. There was something with Edwin's shirt and something yellow. Someone yelled "GROSS" a lot, but that didn't really bother you. You were living in the moment.

The next morning Derek wouldn't look at you and it scared you to death because you probably did something stupid.

But you're a coward, remember? The end of break came and went and you never asked him what it was that you did that drunken Christmas Eve.

Nice job. You should get an award for being an epic fuck up.

_**Twenty Five**_

You had been dating Peter for a long time and he was a decent guy. How long had it been, a year? He asked you to marry him and you, because you're a coward, said yes.

April 27th. That's the date you set for the biggest mistake of your life.

The whole family came. Mom, George, Edwin, Lizzie, Marti. Derek didn't bring a girl.

And you hated him for it, didn't you? A girl would have made your life one million times easier. Now you would have to look at the audience and see him alone.

Alone and _AVALIBLE._

Awesome.

But you went through with the rehearsal dinner; you just didn't look at him when you did it. He looked at you though. All night he stared at you and it made you paranoid. You wanted to look back, to see if he was angry, if he was happy. Maybe he was sad. But you would never know.

Coward.

You got drunk again that night, for the first time in months. Derek had that effect on you. You avoided Peter and somehow found yourself in the first and last car you wanted to be in.

Good job, genius. Sleeping with your step brother in a sleazy hotel room on the eve of your wedding is hardly the way to build a healthy marriage.

But Derek didn't stop it, did he? Hell, he paid for the hotel room.

You liked that thought. It helped you blame him.

_**Thirty One**_

Your marriage is falling apart, but you won't admit it. Because that would mean that you made a mistake and the tightening you felt in your chest whenever you saw your _step brother_ at family events was real. And you didn't make mistakes. And that feeling was just indigestion; you never did react well to the shrimp Mom served at those family dinner parties.

Derek always brought a different girl to these things and all of them were beautiful and transparent. That bothered you. You felt like it was his revenge or something weird like that and you wanted to confront him.

Coward. You don't do stuff like that, remember?

You've got a job at a large publishing company in New York. It's a great job. You should be living a great life and you should be happy. But you're not because you fucked up over and over again and you didn't learn your lesson until you landed yourself in an impossible position and with a husband that, let's be honest, you care about immensely, but don't love.

His heart would break if he knew. Maybe he already does and that's why everything between you is either awkward or tense these days. But if he doesn't know, what will you do? Will you tell him?

You never did answer the hard questions when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Derek and Marti came down from Canada to visit you. Derek's in Toronto now, playing hockey on the side and working for some large production company. He's helping to make movies. Dreamy, huh? You always did have weird fantasies about marrying a man like that when you were in high school.

Marti wanted to shop at Macy's but you had a report to finish for work. Peter offered to take her and you let him because then you could be alone with Derek. And you could finally face that that was what you wanted more than anything in the world.

He didn't talk to you for the whole five hours Marti was blowing her hard earned Smellie Nellies money. You didn't bother initiating a conversation. That would have been too hard. You weren't into that feeling.

They left two days later and you felt cheated.

News flash, sweetie, you cheated yourself.

_**Thirty Three**_

That train wreck of a marriage was over and you were happier than you'd been in years. Peter served you the papers and you had a cocktail by yourself to celebrate. The end of an era. And Derek was still single.

You applied for jobs in Canada and landed yourself in a smaller company in, goodness what a surprise, Toronto. The divorce had given you this deranged sort of confidence, so you called Derek shortly after you moved and asked him to have dinner with you.

He was reluctant, but agreed in the end.

It was a nice restaurant, but you didn't care. At first it was horribly awkward, two step siblings who were secretly in love with each other were having dinner and both were suddenly single again because of a divorce? What could be worse? But then you had a few wines and you loosened up and the confessions started flowing faster than the Hudson after the snow melted.

You really needed to lose the New York related expressions. You're in Canada now and for once you're sort of happy. Forget about that nonsense you put yourself through in the Big Fucking Apple.

You told him that you never loved Peter and you married him because you were scared. He didn't say anything to that, either he had no response or he didn't want to be cruel with whatever it was. Then you confessed that you think about the traffic kiss all the time because you were just that drunk. Way too drunk. But you couldn't stop. He realized it too, got the check, and drove you home. The confessions kept coming. Confessions about being jealous of girls over winter breaks, of being terrified of what you had done that Christmas for months, of wanting to leave your ex-husband at the altar and run away with him.

He still didn't speak.

And then it happened, what was either the biggest fuck up of them all, or the bravest thing you have ever done.

Somewhere between that cute deli you liked and your apartment that was two blocks away from it, the words I LOVE YOU somehow escaped your lips.

You really owe wine big time for that one.

_**Thirty Six**_

Hard to believe it took twenty years, right?

It took the two of you twenty years of awkward courting, of stupid women, of even stupider husbands, and of mutual fear to do it. That has to be some sort of record. Call Guinness. They probably have a spot for you.

You got married two months after you drunkenly proclaimed your feelings. People told you you were crazy.

No, you weren't crazy. Nothing about the two of you has ever been normal anyway, so why start with marriage?

George and Nora were slightly disturbed, to say the least, but Derek didn't seem to care and you sure as hell didn't. You finally had what you wanted and you could finally and legitimately say you were happy. And they didn't disown you or anything, so you ran with it.

The honeymoon was a series of jumps across the surface of the Earth that lasted for two weeks. You started in London, then went to Rome, Cairo, back up to Vienna and Amsterdam and then made a spectacular leap to Taiwan.

You insisted that you pay one visit to Beijing. Derek didn't ask why. He was used to your compulsiveness by now.

Then one stop in Hawaii and you were done.

The pair of you went back to Toronto and built a "married life" in a large flat overlooking the better view of the city. It was nothing short of spectacular. You didn't think it could get any better. Then, last year, you were proven wrong. You built a "married with children" life. She was tiny, beautiful and you named her Cecilia because you loved the name and Elizabeth because you loved your sister. You had to take a long leave from work.

Two months after you returned to the company, you got pregnant again. Three months after that you took an extended leave without pay. You didn't mind. And this baby is worse than the last one. Morning sickness is a plague that you can't escape. It kicks a lot too. But, let's be honest, you don't care.

And anyways, Derek swears it's a boy.

He must be his father's son.

--End

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